


Respect

by ghostofgatsby



Series: to obey and command [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Begging, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Discipline, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Impact Play, Kneeling, Leather gloves, M/M, Military Kink, Strapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6447916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me, private. Why are you being punished?”<br/>“Because I broke the rules, sir.” Ross answers.<br/>“But <em>why</em>, exactly, am I punishing you?” Trott asks again.<br/>Ross pauses. “...because I deserve it, sir.”<br/>“Good.” Trott murmurs. He clears his throat. “Let it be known, private, that if you keep breaking the rules, you'll be needing more extensive remedial training. But perhaps this little lesson today will remind you of your place...”<br/>Trott’s gloved hand momentarily strokes down Ross’ spine, rubbing his back, and pushing his shirt up to his shoulder blades.<br/>“Beg me for it.” Trott orders, pulling his hand away. “You want my touch, then beg me. Beg me to punish you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respect

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, I was in the mood for more Military Kink Tross.  
> I created a very short thing when I added leather gloves to Orders, and then the idea of this scene popped in my head.
> 
> cw: use of a belt, face slapping (once), striking the palms of hands, minor boot licking/comeplay, bit of humiliation/objectification  
> not sure if the hands thing is actually plausible but.  
> If I need to tag anything else, let me know.
> 
> reblog: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2016/04/04/respect-ghostofgatsby/

“Such a shame, private...” Trott sighs in disappointment. “...that here we are again.”

Ross is facing the wall like a disobedient child, with his hands folded on the back of his head. He can hear Trott pacing behind him, boots heel to toe across the wooden floor.

Trott tuts. “After our little chat last time, I believed you’d been set straight. But imagine my surprise when I learned the opposite had occurred. You knew the rules, private, and still, you broke them-”

“Sir-” Ross interrupts. If he could get a word in, maybe he could explain. “Please, I-”

“ _Quiet._ ” Trott snaps. “Your disobedience will be punished. You break the rules, you suffer the consequences.” He says sternly. His footsteps stop. “Turn around.”

Ross turns slowly, and keeps his eyes to the floor and his hands on his head.

“ _Look at me_.” Trott jerks Ross’ chin up with a leather-gloved hand. “I don't tolerate those who break the rules.” He mutters. “And my infantry will not be tarnished by your petty excuse for respect.”

Ross swallows thickly. He’s determined not to shrink from Trott’s withering stare. Trott tightens his grip slightly. His knuckle presses under Ross’ jaw.

“In fact, _respect_ is what I want you to learn today, private.” Trott continues. “Your actions show only disrespect and arrogance. Your lack of respect towards me threatens not only the honor of your position, but the honor of this infantry, and I will not stand for it.”

Trott isn’t yelling, but the tone of his voice makes Ross want to obey.

“Understood?” Trott asks.

Ross licks his lips. “Yes, sir.” He answers quietly.

“Good.”

Trott lets go of his chin. He steps back and nods towards the bed. “Bend over the foot of the bed. And keep your hands where they are.”

Ross does as he’s told to. Trott pulls his pants and boxers past his knees. After a tap to each of his ankles in turn, Ross steps out of them, and Trott carelessly kicks his clothes aside.

Ross hears the jingling of Trott’s belt as it’s undone, and the soft sound of leather sliding through belt loops.

Fuck, he hates the belt. He hates it, but he asked for it. Trott hasn’t landed a blow yet, and already Ross can feel the phantom sensation of leather hitting skin. He swallows thickly.

“How many days are there in March, private?” Trott asks, snapping the doubled belt in his hands.

“Thirty one, sir.” Ross answers.

“That’s thirty one strikes, then. What day is it today, private?”

“April fourth, sir.”

“Then that’s four more. Thirty five strikes total. I want you to count them out loud, adding 'sir' after each hit. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Trott steps up behind him, close, but not close enough. “Tell me, private. Why are you being punished?” He asks.

“Because I broke the rules, sir.” Ross answers.

“Why thirty five strikes?”

“Because I broke the rules behind your back every day in March, sir. And the four in April.”

“But _why_ , exactly, am I punishing you?” Trott asks again.

Ross pauses. “...because I deserve it, sir.”

“Good.” Trott murmurs. He clears his throat. “Let it be known, private, that if you keep breaking the rules, you'll be needing more extensive remedial training. But perhaps this little lesson today will remind you of your place...”

Trott’s gloved hand strokes down Ross’ spine, rubbing his back, and pushing his shirt up to his shoulder blades. The leather is soft against his skin, and it’s a silent reminder that this is just a scene. He deserves it no more than he doesn't- he wants this, and he wants Trott to give it to him.

“Beg me for it.” Trott orders, pulling his hand away. “You want my touch, then beg me. Beg me to punish you.”

Ross swallows thickly. “Please. Sir.” He mumbles the words into the sheets.

“Pathetic.” Trott scoffs. “You can do better than that, private. I’ve heard you beg for cock all night long, you can beg for a measly strapping.”

Ross tries again. “Please touch me, sir. Please.”

“No.”

“Please, sir. Please, please touch me sir.” He says louder.

“No.”

Ross takes a deep breath and says the words in a rush. “Please punish me, sir. Please punish me, I deserve it.”

“What do you want, private? Be specific. _Beg me_.” Trott flicks Ross’ asscheek with his fingers.

“ _Please._ I want to be punished, sir. I deserve it. Punish me, _please_.”

Ross shudders at the sound of Trott’s heavy footfalls moving backwards. The belt comes down sharp. Ross gasps out “one, sir”, followed by several more numbers. They get to ten easily, and Trott stops for a moment, stroking Ross’ reddened cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Beg me again.” He orders. There’s a roughness to his voice, and Ross knows Trott’s obviously affected by the sight of him.

“Sir, please,” Ross pants. “Please punish me. Please touch me, sir. Hit me. Please, hit me harder-”

“Harder?” Trott asks gleefully.

“ _Fuck_ -”

Trott layers on another set of ten. The blows shift from his ass to the back of his thighs, each strike sharp and hot and heavy. Ross breathes heavily into the bedsheets as he counts aloud, and his fingers tighten on the back of his head.

“What number are we on, private?” Trott asks, swatting lightly at Ross’ backside with the doubled belt.

“Twenty- Twenty-one, sir?”

“Correct. How many left?”

“F...fourteen, sir.” Ross swallows down a whimper as Trott’s gloved hand strokes across his reddened skin. “ _Please_...”

“Kneel in front of me.”

Trott draws him back up off the bed, and Ross sinks to the floor at his feet.

“Please, sir. Fuck.” He stammers, wincing at the burn in his ass and thighs.

“Please fuck what?” Trott tilts his chin up to look him in the eyes. Ross’ hands are still on the back of his head.

“Please.” Ross takes a deep breath. “Fuck, sir, touch me. Please, Trott-” _Shit_. “Sir-”

Trott’s name slips out, and he can’t reel it back in. The split second after Ross corrects himself, Trott slaps him hard enough to nudge his head aside.

Ross stares at the floor, with his lips parted in shock. The sting soaks into his skin and makes his eyes water.

Trott cups Ross’ jaw and turns his head back to face him. Ross hears the crack of Trott's knees as he squats down, and then Trott’s lips are at his ear.

"That's not my name, sunshine..." Trott whispers. His breath is hot on Ross' reddened cheek.

"Sir..." Ross breathes. The room seems so much quieter now. His eyes flutter shut. He inhales shakily.

"'Sir', what?"

Ross licks his lips. "Sir. Please."

"Please...?"

Ross sucks in a heavy breath. His head droops downward. "Please touch me, sir..."

Trott gently strokes his cheek with the back of his hand. “Quieter now, aren't you? Who knew a little slap could do this much...”

Ross feels himself swoon to the side a little and groans. Trott’s other hand comes up and cradles his face.

"Color, sunshine?" Trott asks softly.

Ross realizes he’s been spacing out. "Green?" It feels so much better to keep his eyes closed.

Trott’s hands are holding his head up, and his thumb strokes Ross’ stubbled cheek. The leather gloves soothe the sting.

"Tell me how you feel." Trott orders.

"Disoriented? Thirsty.” Ross licks his lips.

“Stay here.” Trott lets go when he knows Ross won’t crumble to the floor. He leaves Ross’ side for a moment, and Ross hears the plastic sound of Trott snapping open a water bottle.

“Drink.” Trott orders him, with a gentle hand under his chin and the end of the bottle pressed to his mouth.

Ross obeys. When the bottle pulls away, Trott runs his fingers through his hair.

Ross opens his eyes again when he can lift his head up.

“Feeling better?” Trott asks.

Ross hums and nods. “Yeah, better. More clear-headed.” He licks his lips and gives Trott a tiny smile. “Please.”

Trott raises an eyebrow. “Color?”

“Green, sir.”

Trott takes his hand away. He returns the water to a nearby side table, and comes back to stand in front of Ross again.

“Well, private...perhaps you have earned a little something, for taking your punishment so easily.” Trott drawls, stepping back into the role. “Though I’m not sure I should reward you for being an insufferable twat.”

Ross tries not to smirk and fails. “I’m less of an insufferable twat than Corporal Smith is, sir.”

Trott laughs, and strokes Ross’ sweat dampened bangs away from his eyes. “As true as that may be, Private Ross...you’re the one on your knees, here.”

Ross smiles.

Trott smirks down at him and pulls his hand away. “Now...” He falls back into the role properly with his tone of voice, and the smile slips from Ross’ face. “You have fourteen more to take. Do you want this?”

“Yes, sir.” Ross agrees. “Please.” His ass and thighs are sore, but nothing he can’t handle. Nothing he hasn’t handled before.

“You deserve this, don’t you?” Trott asks lowly.

“Yes, sir.” Ross says again.

“Good.” Trott picks up the belt he left at Ross’ feet. “Give me your hands.”

Ross lifts his hands above him, palm up.

“Seven to each. Understood?”

Ross nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

The belt comes down seven times in succession, on one hand and then the other. Trott is careful not to hit any of Ross’ fingers or his thumb.

Ross breathes heavily, and stares down at Trott’s boots on the floor. The palms of his hands sting with an itchy sort of pain. When the fourteen strikes are up, they tingle afterwards, and his arms shake.

Trott puts his belt back on. He massages the palms of Ross' hands and kisses the red away.

“Color?” Trott asks, kissing each of Ross’ fingertips in turn.

“Green, sir.” Ross exhales.

“Good.” Trott lets Ross’ hands drop to his sides. “Arms behind your back, now.”

Ross does as he says, straightening his posture and taking a deep breath.

Trott’s fingertips trace his jawline and lips, and then he presses his gloved thumb into Ross’ mouth.

"That's right, sunshine...” He murmurs sinfully. “Get those nice and _wet_ for me."

Ross groans, the rumble caught in the back of his throat. The leather gloves are musky and taste strangely metallic.

Trott removes his thumb and presses three fingers in. They stroke along Ross’ tongue, and he sucks wantonly as Trott moves them in and out of his mouth. Trott slips in the fourth, stretching Ross' mouth obscenely. As if it wasn’t obscene enough already.

Trott pulls them free. Ross licks his lips and swallows thickly. He watches Trott undo his pants, and refrains from moving forward until Trott gives him the go ahead.

Trott’s hand is cold and wet on the back of Ross’ neck as he guides Ross’ mouth down his cock. Ross hollows his cheeks and sucks. Trott curses under his breath, and his wet fingertips slide up and into Ross’ hair.

Ross shivers. He tries to relax his throat, and lets Trott use him.

Trott gently fucks his mouth. He keeps one hand in Ross’ hair and cups his cheek with the other. His thumb brushes the corner of Ross’ mouth where it’s stretched around his dick.

Ross moans.

Trott curses again. He stares down at Ross with his lips parted and his face flushed.

“Like that cock in your mouth don’t you?” Trott asks, tightening his grip in Ross’ hair. “Fucking gagging for it. _Shit._ ” Trott arches his head back. Ross can see a bead of sweat dripping down his neck.

“ _Fuck._ ” Trott moans. He comes with a hoarse cry, and Ross swallows him down reflexively.

“You want to come?” Trott asks, panting as he pulls back and does up his pants again.

“Please.” Ross murmurs. He’s been hard longer than Trott has.

“Fuck my boots, then.” Trott orders.

Ross lets out a quiet moan. He shuffles forward, feeling both his cheeks burning with shame and soreness, and slowly thrusts between Trott’s ankles. His hips give little jerks with each movement forward. Fuck, he’s so close already...

“ _Look at me, Ross._ ”

Ross shudders and looks up.

Trott stares down at him, eyes burning with lust. “Come for me. _Now_.”

" _Oh_..." Ross gasps out. His eyes flutter shut, and he comes with a breathless sigh.

Trott strokes Ross’ cheek.

Chest heaving, Ross catches his breath. When he opens his eyes again, Trott’s still staring down at him.

“Down. Clean it up.” Trott orders, pushing the back of Ross’ head until he bends forward.

Ross moans quietly at the shame this strikes through him- licking his own come from Trott’s boots. He licks them clean until he can only taste the leather.

“Good. Very good, private. That’s enough.”

Ross sits back on his haunches again, panting quietly. Trott strokes his hair and down the nape of his neck.

“You’ve taken your punishment very well.” Trott murmurs. “I guess something’s good in you after all.”

Ross lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, feeling all the tension zap from his limbs.

Trott sinks to his knees in front of Ross, and cups his cheek.

“Good boy, Ross.” He whispers, stroking his thumb. “Relax for me, now, there we go...”

Ross lets his hands come back around to his sides. He stares back at Trott with his eyes half-lidded.

Trott takes his hand and squeezes gently.

Ross squeezes back and licks his lips. _Scene over_. He gives Trott a shy smile.

Trott lets go of Ross’ hand and wraps his arms around him. He pecks kisses to Ross’ cheek and neck.

"F-Fuck..." Ross sighs heavily. His head falls to the crook of Trott’s neck. He leans into Trott, letting himself sink into Trott’s loose embrace.

“Ross.”

“Mm?”

“You did so well, sunshine...” Trott whispers warmly. “You did _so_ fucking well.”

Ross smiles at the reassurance in Trott’s voice. “Really?” He asks quietly.

“Yes. You did so well. I’m very proud of you.” Trott kisses his neck and Ross hears him peel his gloves off and toss them aside.

“How are your ass and thighs?” Trott asks.

“Alright. Sore. But I’ll be fine.”

“How about your knees? Do you want to stand for a little bit? You should stretch your legs.”

Ross nods, and Trott helps him up.

Ross stretches his arms over his head. “Shoulders are a bit sore, too.” He murmurs. “Not too bad, though.”

Trott nods, and traces the faint red handprint on Ross’ cheek. “How’s your face?”

“Fine.” Trott’s fingers don’t hurt when they stroke his skin.

“Was that alright? You got kind of spacey on me afterwards.” Trott frowns.

Ross smiles reassuringly. “It was good, Trott. Really. Fucking hot.”

Trott smiles back. The concern in his eyes disappears. “Alright, good to know. We’ll talk more about it later.” He moves his hand away.

Ross wiggles his toes and sighs, feeling the muscle soreness in his rear. “Can you run a bath?” He asks Trott. “I want to nap, but...”

“Sure thing, sunshine.” Trott kisses his cheek. “I’ll be right back. Don’t fall asleep on me.” He warns cheekily.

Ross smiles at Trott’s back as the other man leaves the room. He stares longingly at the bed. He wants to sleep, but he knows they’ll get to it soon enough.

While he waits for Trott to fill the bath, he resolves his own feelings. Ross runs through the things he and Trott talked about pre-scene, and reminding himself of the things he told himself then.

_I want this. I wanted this._

_Punishment does not determine my worth._

_I am deserving solely because I wanted to be._

_I am neither more or less because of it._

Running through the mantra helps to calm him. When they scene like this, he often feels uncertain about it, and reminding himself of why he chose it helps to settle him down.

Ross doesn’t realize his eyes have closed until he hears Trott come back into the room. Trott leads him by the hand to the awaiting bath, and Ross smiles dopily that he’s lucky to have someone to take care of him.

“Thank you.” He murmurs into Trott’s hair, arms around him as Trott tries to finish scrubbing Ross’ back.

“Thank me when we get out of the bath, sunshine.” Trott chuckles back. “I still have to wash your hair.”

“Okay.” Ross presses a kiss to Trott’s temple. “Will do.”


End file.
